Nocturne
by Phiso
Summary: Sirius is cleaning Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, when he comes across something he hasn't seen in years.


**EDIT: I have revised this again...I tend to do this...Blame Meliantha for this one! X)**

I was actually planning to write something else when this came to me. I don't know if it's any good, but after listening to so much piano music I couldn't resist. ::sweatdrop:: I hope it makes sense.

This took me AGES...I had 4 people read through it, and I revised it about 20 times, adding something here, editing a line there...I really hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. Poo.

Neither does Chopin's Nocturne in C Major, which is the song I imagine Sirius playing. I suggest you listen to it while you read! I would give you the URL, but it won't let me...::growls:: So look up "The Pianist" movie on google, and when you get to the official site, pick song 2. That is, if you want to get the entire feel of the story. It's not necessary. Recommended, but not necessary. =)

  
  
  


The Nocturne

  
  
  
  


'_Sirius! Play me a song!'_

'_Regulus! Leave me alone! I need to practice-'_

'_Please! Just play me Moon Song!'_

'_That's Moonlight Sonata, Regulus.'_

'_Pleeeease?'_

'_Go away!'_

'_Then what are you going to play?'_

'_The Nocturne.'_

'_Ooh I like that one. Play it for me!'_

'_Oh goodness.'_

Sirius growled as he took a damp rag and quickly swept it over an old table in his former living room. Specks of dust remained on the wood, but he didn't care. 'Why do I have to clean this damn house...I don't even know how I inherited it, I was sure he took me out of his will...'

He hated being here. This house, number twelve, Grimmauld Place, had never been a source of happiness for him. Being in this house was almost like Azkaban; he was trapped inside, horrible memories around every corner. Knowing he couldn't escape it was almost unbearable. If Dumbledore hadn't asked to use it as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, he would have set it on fire a long time ago.

Sirius sighed and flopped onto a dusty old armchair, throwing the rag harshly across the room and using his now free hand to cover his weary eyes. He had been cleaning for hours, and he still wasn't even close to finishing...

A few seconds later, he heard a crash. Looking up, he realized that he had accidentally thrown the rag into the other room in his agitation. He stood up and shambled in the direction of the noise, irritated that he would have to clean yet another room tonight.

He stopped, ignoring the broken glass he had just stepped on. In front of him was something he hadn't seen in years, something he had forgotten.

Sirius looked at the ivory and ebony keys gleaming in the candlelight, the dusty black wood trying to shine under the layers of dust in the moonlight. It had been years, decades, since he had touched a piano. He was never proud of his musical background; he only took up the instrument to keep his mother happy when he was younger, when she still loved him. She appreciated the gesture, and made him take lessons for years, but after his eleventh birthday, he hadn't played once.

Sirius had never mentioned it to any of his friends; he was afraid that he would lose face if he ever mentioned it to them, even though deep down he knew that he wouldn't. It's just...He was _Sirius Black._ He was the one with the family who hated him as much as he hated them. They wouldn't understand that at one point he had in fact been a part of his family and considered an actual relative; all they could see was the loathing in his family's eyes whenever they saw him or spoke his name. It would have been such a blow that they wouldn't know how to take it. It hurt to think about it; remembering how it used to be and how it turned out.

The urge to either play the piano or break it into pieces battled within his mind. Eventually, he slowly reached out and softly played middle C. The note echoed through the empty halls, reminding him of the childhood he had gained and lost in this house.

Wondering if he could remember any songs, Sirius lifted his other hand and placed it on the board. He played a basic chord, listening to the different pitches blend together. It was still in tune.

He moved forward, but was stopped by something hard. Looking down, he saw his old piano bench. He removed his hands from the keys and opened the seat. Inside were pages upon pages of yellowed piano music, ranging from the basic "Mary had a Little Lamb" to the classic "Für Elise". Shifting through the pages, he found one of his favorite songs.

He put it on the piano and closed the bench, taking care to take out another song before shutting it completely. Sitting down, he looked at the piano with apprehension. It had been so long...He stared at the music, wondering if he dared to bring it back to life. Because if he brought back the music, it would bring back something else as well...It would awaken an old part of him, the part he tried to keep hidden. Sirius didn't like to think about his childhood, and this had been a big part of that time.

Sirius frowned. Despite his hesitation, he wasn't about to back down. He never backed down. Trembling slightly, he put his hands on the proper keys. With a deep breath, he played the opening chords, loudly at first, then softly.

His left hand played the triplets while his right expressed the enchanting melody of the music. He found that after a little while, his hands would play as well as if he had just mastered the song the day before. Sirius smiled a little as the memory of his practicing came to him: Regulus, watching in awe as he moved his fingers deftly over the keys, playing a random one every now and then so he could be a part of the song too; his father, standing next to him, pipe in balanced between his teeth, humming along; his mother, putting her hands on his as he played, pretending she knew what she was doing. That was why he learned. She never learned, and she had always loved music. He had wanted to make her happy.

The song was a bit sad at first, and he almost didn't want to play anymore. It sounded too much like how he felt. But he kept going; soon, it was more cheerful. It took Sirius back to the days when his entire family got along wonderfully; those spring days in the garden, the happy times of the holidays. He smiled, recalling those rare content moments that had been sucked out of him before.

It gradually became more melancholy as he went on, reminding him of the days when he had first started to rebel. He played louder and louder, slowing down a bit near the end of the phrase. He sighed, reflecting on how his family reacted when he first said no. The yelling, the disappointment, the rejection, the betrayal...

It was becoming and more nostalgic, the sound growing and dying as he played the keys. The end came, satisfying yet remorseful. He sighed as his hands came to a stop, the last note echoing through the empty house. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gathered the scattered papers into one pile with shaking hands.

That song...He had liked it before because it was his mother's favourite song. Now he liked it because it reminded him of who he was. Lost, yet hopeful.

Softy closing the piano, he rested his hands on the cool, dusty wood. Terrible. Such a lovely instrument, if you ignored its past. Still in tune, made from the best materials money could buy. He shouldn't have let it waste away like this; this was his piano, the piano he was given by his parents at the age of 4. Sirius stroked it, brushing the dust off with his fingers.

He looked at the music sitting on the instrument, waiting to be brought to life, the black notes contrasting against the yellow. The urge to play more grew, his hands itching to touch those cool, hard keys again and bring back memories of his past, but his heart stopped him. He couldn't. Not now. One song was enough.

'_Wow Sirius! You're so good at this.'_

''_Course I am.'_

'_You think I could learn one day?'_

'_Maybe. But you'll have to get your own piano. This one is MINE.'_


End file.
